Beauty and the Beast
by writemudblood
Summary: Harry and Hermione AU: Beauty and the Beast
1. Chapter 1: Encountering the Beast

**Harry and Hermione AU: Beauty and the Beast**

**Part 1: Encountering the Beast**

**(A/N: Part 2 is smutty, I swear.)**

Hermione Granger stifled a laugh and continued walking.

She was surrounded by a dozen girls in colourful frocks, their hair tied up in an elaborate manner. She was caught in between the tide of hormone-infested celebration.

She didn't recognize any one of them. Their faces were either obscured by large, silly masks or painted so thickly that you could barely tell whether the skin was real or not.

"Gather 'round folks," boomed a voice from behind her. "Today you shall witness the work of the Great Victor Krum!" Hermione heard the sounds of cheers and jeers. The applause from the audience was almost overwhelming.

Turning around, Hermione saw that the voice came from a tall, lanky boy with hair the color of flame. His face was covered with freckles and his eyes were the brightest shade of blue she had ever seen. He was dressed in tattered robes and filthy trousers; the soles of his shoes were torn in several places. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the voice truly had come from him.

"Hermione," whispered a soft, tinkling voice. Hermione jumped.

She turned to see Luna Lovegood standing beside her. Despite all the costumes that she had seen tonight, no one beats Luna. She was dressed in several shades of blue, flowing like an endless, raging river. The material of her dress was made out of scrap leaves painted with glitter and something silky. It was covered with intricate designs of mythical creatures – each drawing made of tattered silk.

Luna gave Hermione a firm hug and pulled up something from behind her. "Happy Birthday, Hermione," she squealed as she gave her a box wrapped in red velvet.

"Oh, Luna, thank you!" Hermione pulled the box to her chest. "It's heavy! Is it what I think it is," Hermione asked, a smile stretching across her face.

Luna nodded. "Dumbledore told me you would want to have this copy. It's the first edition and it took him a long time trying to find it. I guess you'll have to thank him for it too."

Hermione eyed the box with excitement. "So what exactly is going on here," Luna asked as she looked around the costume-adorned crowd. "For some reason, I feel less of myself when I'm around these people."

Hermione chuckled at Luna's mock insecurity. "It's just a town gathering." She looked at the girls who swooned at the sight of Krum. "The girls, on the other hand, came for Krum."

Luna bumped her shoulders against Hermione's. "And you didn't," she teased.

"Of course not. Krum takes too much pride in himself. He is vain and loud; he does not care for me or for what I want," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

"You say this after you rejected his invitation to the ball…twice!"

"I do not feel anything towards Krum. He enslaves those poor Weasley siblings, treating Ron like a lackey. He thinks highly of himself and speaks ill with others." Hermione began to walk through the crowd, pushing herself against jostling elbows and surging knees.

Luna looked at her with pitiful eyes. "Krum has wooed you for years now, Hermione. He is the most sought after bachelor in town. He isn't perfect, but you couldn't find a prince in this side of Diagon Alley. Those things only exist in fairy tales. Blue bloods are snobs."

They were on the more isolated parts of Diagon Alley now. The streetlights flicked above their heads, providing very little light in the dark. "I just have a feeling like there's something else waiting for me out there, something greater. As much as I would want to live a stable life, I can't live one constantly wondering," Hermione explained.

There was a cry from the corner of the street, a sharp, piercing sound that filled Hermione's stomach with fear. It felt like a ton of lead had just settled on her gut. "Mother," she murmured as she began running.

Her footsteps were fast, her breathing heavy. Sweat trickled down her back. Pain radiated from her arms from carrying the book while she ran. A thousand scenarios ran through her head and she dismissed each one of them with a grunt. She could hear Luna's footsteps behind her – slower yet just as alarmed.

She reached the corner of the street and immediately scanned the area. The intersecting streets were empty, with only a few lights still lit from inside the houses. Rain puddles formed on the crevices of the badly-constructed pavement.

She ran to a small, two story building. Her heartbeat quickened, her pulse elevated. Hermione pulled open the door. Heat radiated from inside the house. From where she sood, she could smell soup and garlic bread – the aroma beckoning her to move closer.

But her feet were stuck on the floor with fear.

"Mum," she called.

She heard the sound of footsteps descending and let out a sigh of relief.

But her relief was only temporary. Her mom stood in front of her, her eyes red and swollen. Her lips quivered and her hair was in an array of tangles. "Hermione…" the woman said as she faltered into Hermione's arms.

Hermione heard the catch in her mother's voice and prepared herself. She placed her book on the table beside her and began stroking her mother's hair. "Your father, Hermione," she stuttered. "He's been kidnapped."

Hermione's blood ran cold. It couldn't be, Hermione thought. It's one sick joke. Her father had brought her to town just hours ago; he couldn't have possibly been kidnapped in that short matter of time.

In the eerie silence that followed, Hermione gathered herself. She felt like a stranger in her own body, whispering lies to the woman she held in her arms, only to reassure her. The stranger gave the woman a long hug and climbed up the stairs. She grabbed the dagger underneath her bedside table and put on a red cloak.

"Who was it," she asked her mother ferociously.

The woman looked up at her with crazed eyes. "The beast." Hermione's lips shook, her contempt less assured. The Beast had been the center of town legends for months now. It is said that the beast lived in the towering house at the highest point of the cliff; he is rumored to be once a prince – a half blood prince, but a prince nonetheless – who was cursed by a powerful wizard.

No one truly knew of the Beast's existence. Many said the Beast was a monster while others believed he was nothing but a lonely man. But one thing was for sure: he was dangerous.

"I will need the horses," Hermione said. Her mother stared past her and nodded.

* * *

><p>The Beast sat on his plush couch, staring at the thick shroud of mist ahead of him. It was that time of year again, he thought bitterly as he watched the lights flickering from the town below. The festivities of the young and foolish have disturbed him from his sleep and none of the house elves dared to go near him for fear of being badly beaten.<p>

He heard a moan from behind him, a tight, muffled cry of terror. "Shut up, old man. I'll have you whipped and stoned to death if you don't quit your moaning! It's giving me a bloody headache." He snapped his fingers. "Dobby," he yelled.

The elf moved shyly away from the cupboards. "Yes, sir," Dobby asked in a small, innocent voice.

"Fetch me my whip," the beast said, eyes the man through narrowed eyes. "This old man needs to learn his lesson. No one is permitted to trespass my grounds. This is my property and no one is allowed to go through it without my consent."

The old man slumped on the floor, his cheeks wet with tears. He struggled helplessly against the ropes that wrapped around his wrists and ankles, but to no success. The beast flashed the old man a menacing smile and viciously tore the tape off his mouth. "Speak up," the beast ordered.

"I was simply trying to recollect the book that I dropped. It's my present for my daughter."

The beast's eyes lit up at the mention of the word. "You have a daughter, you say," he said with an amused smile, his head tilted. "And this daughter of yours…is she perhaps, unspoken for?"

The colors drained from the old man's cheek. "No," he shouted suddenly. "I will not have you take my daughter for a prisoner! She can live without me, but I couldn't live with myself knowing that she's out here with you!"

The old man leveled the Beast's gaze, defiant.

The beast was infuriated. He wanted to hit the man. But just as he began reaching for his whip, he heard the faint sound of galloping hoofs. The beast grinned and shoved the old man back towards the closet, his mouth resealed.

The door swung open from behind him and the beast felt a gust of wind pass through the enormous, candle-lit living room. Slowly, he turned his head.

In front of him stood the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. Her hair was a tangle of bushy brown hair and her eyes were the colour of mud. She was dressed in luminous white robes and red, velvet cloak.

She stood with her mouth agape and her eyes wide. "Is there anything I can help you with," the beast asked sardonically. The girl shut her mouth and swallowed, raising her chin. "You seem quite out of place. Do tell me, are you lost?"

The girl's voice was rich with contempt. "Where is my father," she growled.

The beast let out a short, lifeless laugh. "Oh so you're with the old man!" He grabbed her chin and leaned towards her. Hermione stiffened at his touch. "…such a waste."

"Tell me where my father is," she shouted, shaking herself off his grip.

"You foolish girl! Do you think you could just storm in here and threaten me? This is my domain, my property. I rule this place and I will not have you speak to me in such a manner."

The girl laughed icily. "Who do you think you are?" She shook her head. "You think you scare me? What? You think because you grow horns from your head and your teeth are sharp…you think because you're big and covered with fur, you think you scare me?"

The girl pulled out a dagger from behind her, holding it up to the Beast's throat. "Tell me where my father is," she hissed.

The beast shook his head, his body unmoving. "I don't think you'll do that," he said, eyeing the dagger. The girl pressed its tip slightly, piercing his skin.

"Give me a reason and I swear to God I will." The Beast stared down at the girl, eyes glinting with malice.

"The rumors are true, Ms. Granger." He heard the girl gasp. "I am…a man of mystery. I have shed blood and killed thousands of men. I have inflicted torture to several of my house elves. I have been quite…reckless."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because that is the price for your father's safe return." Swiftly, he grabbed her wrist and disarmed her. "I want you."

The girl spat on him. "You are a disgusting creature! You hold my father prisoner and now you intend of doing the same for me!"

The beast shook his head. "No, no, no. You see, if you agree to keep me company, I will let your father go, unharmed. Your parents will be well-tended for; I will provide them with a bigger house, a better pay and maybe even some spare gold. However, if you choose to leave, then you leave your father here with me – to be my slave…forever."

"But why would you do that? What will you get from having me here with you?" Hermione didn't want to ask, but her curiosity piqued at her.

"I am a lonely man. I need human company, someone to remind me of my old life. House elves just couldn't fill in that need. I need to feel like I'm not a monster." The beast's tone was playful, yet almost melancholy.

"Show me where my father is," she said, her voice shaking.

The beast stepped aside and led her to the giant closet. He opened the door and Hermione felt her heart drop. Her father was crouched on one side, rocking back and forth. She touched his forehead. "He's sick," she croaked. "I have to get him to see Madam Pomfrey!"

The beast dismissed her with his hand. "No. If you choose to stay with me in exchange for your father's life, you are not to leave this place without my permission. I am your master now." Hermione's vision blurred with tears.

"But he's ill! He couldn't live for much longer if he isn't treated immediately."

"I'll have Gawp take him to Madame Pomfrey." The Beast's voice was cool, detached. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, a tall, looming giant stood in front of the two of them. The Beast looked at her, waiting for an answer.

"Deal," she grumbled.

The beast turned to Gawp and in a booming voice, he commanded,"bring him to Madame Pomfrey; she knows what to do with him." Gawp then gently picked up her unconscious father and placed him on his shoulder.

"Goodbye father," Hermione called, watching the giant cross the room and head for the town. She watched the hulking figure until it was merely a dot on the edge of the road. When she saw him turn to the nearest infirmary, she let out a sigh of relief.

* * *

><p>The first night was lonely, tiresome. After the encounter in the living room, the beast retreated to his quarters without a word. Hermione watched as he slams the door shut, the chandelier clinking at the ripple. She was brought to the basement where she was ordered to tidy the clutter.<p>

Hermione wept silently for the days she could never have, for the family she could no longer be with. She wept for her stolen life and her bottled up anger.

In the darkness, she heard a whisper. "You," it called. "Pssst…hey you, new girl."

Hermione turned to see an elf sitting atop the flight of stairs that lead to the basement. "Who are you," she asked, trying to see the elf's face.

"My name is Dobby. I am a house elf. My master has taken me in with such hospitality; I could not be more honoured to serve him. You shouldn't cry. My master…he isn't as ruthless as you think." Hermione was shocked by the admiration in the elf's voice.

"He's an evil, callous, brute. He thinks only of himself," Hermione spat.

"He's lonely, miss. He hasn't had a woman enter this house for quite a while. His fiancée shunned him; his parents had died in an unfortunate event. He's been alone his whole life, left to this wide expanse of land with nothing but his ego to keep him company."

Hermione felt her heart weaken at the thought of such tragedy; then she reminded herself that it wasn't some poor boy they were talking about, but a merciless beast.

"Why is he like that," Hermione asked.

"Dobby must not say any more. Dobby is being an ungrateful servant. Dobby must punish himself for talking about his Master without permission." The elf began hitting himself, pulling at several places. Hermione felt horrible for the poor, tortured elf.

She threw herself at him. "Stop, Dobby. Stop. It's okay. Your master won't find out. I promise, I won't tell." The elf beamed at her and ran up.

* * *

><p>Hermione was greeted by a list of chores the next morning. She dutifully did each one of them, humming to herself. With each chore, she explored the house, meeting different house elves. None of them was like Dobby; they were more discreet and irritable.<p>

Hours turned to days, days to weeks and Hermione barely the beast come out of his quarters. _If he'd been so desperate for company then, why avoid it now, _she thought as she pulled open the door to his quarters.

Hermione has never seen the room before. It was tended by house elves and strictly off limits for her. She didn't understand why the beast was being so secretive. The room was far from what she expected. It was spotless and neat, no gashes on the wall of stacks of paper on the floor. It was painted a dark shade of red and furnished with the fanciest of furniture. She was so mesmerized by the simplicity that she jumped when she heard a cough behind her.

"Just what do you think you're doing in my quarters? Haven't I told you this room is restricted. It's not part of your job to look after me. Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time," the Beast shouted.

Hermione ignored him and walked towards the window, pushing the curtains apart. Bright light came streaking in. The beast grunted and settled in his bed. "Pull those curtains back. I want to get some rest. I can't sleep with lights on."

Hermione crossed her arms and walked towards the Beast. Playfully, she tried to drag him out of bed, tossing his blanket aside. "Get up, lazy." The beast growled and buried his head deeper into the pillow.

"Leave me alone." Hermione placed her arms on her sides and pouted.

"Just look. It's beautiful outside. It may have escaped your attention, but it's winter now," she pleaded. The beast tossed and turned, but didn't bother getting up. She grabbed his arm and pulled. "Come on. Let's go."

The beast pulled away. The force of his pull sent Hermione tumbling to the space beside him. The beast's eyes shot wide open. Hermione felt her heart flutter. She didn't realize how close their bodies had gotten. At this proximity, she could see his eyes clearly. It was the colour of emerald reflected into an array of shades. Her entire body stiffened, her eyes watching his, searching for something.

The beast turned away from her, embarrassed. "Get off my bed," he grunted. Ashamed to be caught staring, Hermione quickly stood up and brushed her dress. "I will be with you in a moment. Now please, leave."

The beast's sudden change of tone took Hermione by surprise.

Moments later, Hermione found herself sitting on soft, powdery snow. Beside her, the Beast looked around furtively. "You need to loosen up a bit," she teased. The beast simply shook his head and looked away. "Look at me." Hermione held his chin to face her. "You have to stop hiding. It's just you and me here."

The beast stared at her hand and Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot. She didn't know what caused the sudden flutter in her stomach. She gingerly placed her hand back to her lap. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and turned to go. The beast, shocked at the sudden irritation in Hermione's voice, rose.

Hermione slung a ball of chalky white snow straight to his face. The Beast irritably wiped the slowly-melting snow off his face. For a second, Hermione thought she had angered him royally. But instead, the Beast bent down and gathered snow in his hands. He threw the snowball lightly at Hermione, hitting her side. It was the first time Hermione saw the Beast smile without malice.

They exchanged snow ball attacks until their arms ached. Exhausted, they fell on the soft, cold ground, laughing. Hermione stretched out her arm and reached for the Beast's hand.

He wrapped his fingers around hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.


	2. Chapter 2: A Beastly Howl

**Beauty and the Beast Part 2: A Beastly Howl**

**(A/N: Now it gets smutty.)**

One cold winter evening, Hermione awoke to the blood-curdling sound of the beast's howl. Panicked, she quickly wrapped herself with a thin, silk robe and ran to his room. Hermione had been all too cautious about his private quarters, but she couldn't stand back and just wait for another howl to come along. She had to know what was going on behind closed doors.

"Beast! Open this door, Beast," she yelled as her fists rapped the sturdy wooden door. A growl echoed from the inside, low and threatening. Hermione took a bobby pin out of bedraggled hair and picked the locked. In a swift, meticulous motion, she swung the door open.

She came face to face with not the beast, but a man.

The man stood amidst the chaos of broken glass and blood. His hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat glinting against the jet black mane. All he had on were a pair of trousers that were torn on several places. He was medium-built and lean, the muscles of his arms well-formed. Hermione couldn't help but stare.

"What," the man asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Hermione closed her mouth and looked away. "I-I heard a growl and I thought… you've not seen…" She wanted to ask where Beast had been. She wanted to know about the blood on the floor. The broken glass. But at that very moment, what intrigued her most was the man.

He was a contradiction. Familiar but strange. Beautiful but tragic. Frightening but comfortable.

And his eyes…she had seen those eyes before. Up close. Eyes like stained glass. Eyes the color of a bright emerald jewel.

She looked at him intently, not letting her gaze drop – not even with the daggers he shot her. "What," he asked again, slightly more irritated.

Hermione moved across the room, towards where he stood, and touched his cheek. She felt him shiver at her touch. As if her hands were frozen cold, her touch a freezing burn of electrical surge fleeting through his body.

Her hands felt some sticky and slick on the outline of his jaw. "You're bleeding," she said quietly, her eyes still trained at him.

"I'm also aware that you haven't taken your eyes off me from the moment you came into my room without permission. Now tell me something I don't know." The beast's tone was unfriendly but Hermione stood her ground. He had been right after all.

"It's just that you're…"

The Beast moved past her. "Human? Normal? Injured? Different? Handsome?" He turned to face her, one eyebrow lifted. "Shirtless?"

"Your neck is dripping with your own blood and all you do is mock me? Are you out of your mind?"

The Beast moved towards her. Each footstep made her tremble – made the hair on her arms stand up. For some strange reason, this man terrified her more than the beast ever did. "Am I out of my mind," the beast asked, a crazed smile on his face. "AM I OUT OF MY MIND? Look around you, Hermione. No locked doors, no guards, no guns. Nothing. You're not my prisoner. I may have threatened you but I have no tools to pursue that threat. If you ran home that very night, taken your father with you, and hid him someplace safe, it wouldn't have mattered. I would have found another girl to take your place. I wouldn't have cared."

"Why are you saying this?" Hermione didn't understand at all. The Beast has had his mood swings, his sudden fits of panic. He's had his moments of solitude and days when he'd lock himself in his room and not come out unless during a meal. But this was something different.

Behind all the layers of fur, this was the man that cowered. Seeing him right now, his beastly demeanor stripped off of him, was far more tragic. Hermione felt the raw emotion squeezed out of him, felt his frustration radiate off the specks of green in his eyes.

The beast stared at Hermione. _The Beast. The Beast._ Hermione had to constantly remind herself that the man in front of her now wasn't some stranger from the land of beautiful people with flawless profiles and beautiful eyes. He was the Beast, the same one she was forced to spend the last three months with. But how can she call him a beast now, now that he's human – not only in his appearance but in his actions.

"I'll go ask Dobby to fix you some food. In the meantime, you better lie down. It helps with the whole blood loss situation," Hermione mumbled, breaking the silence. The beast didn't take his eyes off her, only pointed at the bed behind him.

"Broken glass. I don't think it would be a great idea to have me lie down on that."

Hermione tapped her foot anxiously against the marble tile. "My bedroom then," she said, offering him her hand. He gingerly accepted it and tried to cross the room without further injuring himself. "I don't normally invite half-dressed men into my room; you should be honoured."

"Oh I'm more than honoured. You can say I'm even… surprised. I didn't know you were quite aggressive. I don't normally get invites to a girl's bedroom." Hermione glowered at him. "I mean… being half buffalo and all, I don't think any girl would trust me to go that far."

Hermione stifled a laugh. And even without looking, she could feel him smiling too.

* * *

><p>The beast sat on the corner of Hermione's bed, his neck tilted upwards. Hermione was on her knees, eyes trained on the deep cut just underneath his jawline. She was thankful for the privacy the elves had given them. To the normal eyes the position they were in at the moment were regarded as immoral, with the girl on her knees in front of the boy. Hermione tried to push the thought away. "Let's play a game," she said softly.<p>

"I would have to move my jaw when I talk. See that, right now? Movement," the Beast teased.

"I'll have you all wrapped up in a second. After that I am entitled to ask you three questions." Hermione felt the tone of flirtation slip through her voice, and her cheeks burned.

"And what if I don't agree to those conditions?"

"Then I would painfully take out these stitches and let you bleed to death."

Hermione gently patted the dried blood off his neck. "Morbid," he said, smiling as he looked down on her. "Fine then, I'll answer your three questions. That is, given that I could ask you three questions as well."

Hermione tensed at the thought of an interrogation. The Beast sensed her unease and lit up. "And there will be no limitations as to how personal the question can get." The beast's smile was confident, cocky even. But Hermione saw something flicker in those bright green eyes. The beast wanted her to ask something, he wanted to tell her something and this was his way of saying it. This was his way of taking some unspoken secret off his shoulders.

Hermione nodded and pushed herself up. Hermione sat across the beast, her back against the intricate, velvet headboard. The beast sat on the other end, his arms wrapped around his knees. "Thank goodness I let you move up here. The lighting in the basement is kind of whacked," the beast mumbled as he tried to take in the room around him.

"Thank you," Hermione spoke shyly. The gentleness of her voice interrupted the beast's cocky streak of comebacks and comments. He looked at her and smiled. Hermione felt her heart flutter. She cleared her throat and looked away. "Okay, first question. What's your story? Tell me everything. Tell me specifics. Tell me why you're human right now."

The beast seemed to be taken aback by her straightforwardness. He sat there for a while, staring at her, his mouth agape, but his eyes distant.

"I am human. I am cursed. This is a flaw in that curse, a vital change in pattern that rarely occurs. I don't know why the curse hasn't fully taken its effect on me. I don't know why I was cursed. I don't know why my parents were killed. I just know that one person is responsible for all of this." His eyes locked with hers and Hermione saw burning fury in his eyes. "His name is Tom Riddle. Strangely, he's French. He acquired the name when he moved to Britain a few years back. I haven't had much news about him. Nothing more than what my parents wrote in their journal in fact. He's a Dark Magician. I don't know if you believe in magic or anything, but that's what he is. He killed his parents when I was barely able to speak. I only remember their faces through the portraits I kept locked up in a hidden compartment in the basement. I was fated to inherit the throne, to rule the land, so he came after me. But I was left to the care of someone powerful enough to protect me, however, not enough to lift the curse completely. I wasn't killed, but I was shunned. He got what he wanted, a kingdom all to himself. And here I am, left to live in a lone, forsaken mansion with a bunch of house elves the day I turned fifteen."

Hermione saw him clench and unclench his fists. "Could you imagine how that feels like? To be fifteen and isolated from society? To be locked up like I was some kind of leper? To have to wait every day until the curse takes place? I didn't have a clue as to what the curse was. I only knew that it would change me, that it would turn me into something dangerous. All I knew of the curse was that…" He looked at her and faltered. "There's no cure for it."

Hermione crawled across the bed and wrapped her arms around him. He didn't try to hug her back; his hands were still wrapped tightly around his legs. Instead, he buried his head to her shoulder and heaved an awfully long sigh. Then he laughed.

"Now my question," he said with a smile on his face. "Do you find me…this version of me, do you find me attractive?"

Hermione flushed and quickly tried to push herself back. But he had his hand around her ankles, dragging her closer to him. Their faces were only a few inches apart now.

Hermione found herself unable to think. Suddenly, the room felt too stuffed, too humid. The beast watched her with an amused expression. "Well…I'm waiting," he said, twirling a lock of her hair with his index finger. "It's a simple question."

"Yes," Hermione whispered. The beast smirked and moved his face closer.

"What was that? I didn't catch what you said. Do you remind repeating it?"

"Yes," Hermione said louder.

"Yes, okay, I know. Now can you repeat what you said?" One inch closer.

"I said yes!" Closer.

"What?" The beast chuckled. Hermione pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

"I said…"She closed her eyes and leaned towards him. Desire swept through her body like surging waves, without warning and very threatening. Completely lost in the crashing and colliding, Hermione felt her heart beat frantically inside her chest.

The kiss was passionate and raw, wrapped with a million conflicting emotions that came in all at once. His mouth pressed against hers, soft, gentle, inviting. Hermione was unable to breathe. She was caught in a tangle of hands searching, holding. His touch seared her body like white flames licking the outlines of her jaw, her cheeks, her neck. Each kiss sent an electrical pulse down her spine. He opened his mouth and let their tongues dance with each other, a silent exchange of wanting and needing.

She laced her fingers around his hair, pulling him forward, closer to her. Suddenly, they were sprawled on her bed, her hands on his hair; his hands on the back of her neck. The kisses came by more fervently, more desperate. She tilts her head upward, an invitation to further grounds.

_I have never done this before_, Hermione thought. _Never let a boy come this close to touching me. I have never_…but the words were lost in the sounds of soft whispers and moans that reverberated against the thin walls of her room. The Beast's hands wandered the contours of her body and for once, Hermione didn't feel so ashamed.

In fact, to her, it felt natural. His body matched hers perfectly, every angle sliding with ease, every crevice, every curve. They were like jagged pieces of a puzzle coming together.

Clothes came loose and Hermione felt her entire body stiffen. "Relax," the Beast whispered. It shouldn't have been enough. It shouldn't have been this easy. But the words fell tenderly towards her ears, warm like honey, a gentle melody. Hermione felt her entire body soften.

She opened her eyes. The Beast was on top of her, eyes trained on hers, careful and innocent. Hermione realized he was asking for permission. He was so serious, so tranquil that Hermione couldn't help but giggle. A smile tugs at the corner of the Beast's lips. "You haven't asked me your second question," the beast said, tracing her collarbones.

Hermione was glad to hear his voice. The normalcy of his sentence brought her back to reality. "What's your name? Your real name," Hermione asked. Her voice seemed unfamiliar to her own ears, lower and more seductive. Hermione smiled bashfully.

"That's funny. You've been stuck with me for months, you've scolded me and hit me and kissed me…" his eyes narrow, but the smile remained on his face. "And you don't know my name." He chuckles. "Sounds like I'm some one-night stand, someone you just so happened to bang when you have a hang-over. Someone you met, perhaps in a bar, or the town festival."

Hermione hits his arm lightly. "You're delaying."

"My name is Harry. Harry James Potter. But you can call me Beast. In fact, I like how you call me Beast." Harry's eyes flicker with malice. "I can be your Beast any time."

Hermione felt his body collapse against hers, and suddenly they were laughing again. Kissing, touching, and laughing. They roll around her bed for a while, elbows jostling, hands shifting, lips moving.

"Now, my turn," Harry said as he pinned her down. "Hermione Jean Granger, daughter of the Gryffindor Household, are you a virgin?"

Hermione felt her cheeks burn. What would he do if she said yes? Would he lose interest? Walk away? Treat her like an insubordinate, a toy?

"My, my, Miss Granger. You take too long answering my questions. And I ask simply yes or no ones." His tone was teasing. _He knew the answer; it must have shown off_, Hermione thought bitterly.

Hermione casted her eyes downward, instantly regretting it. It was only now that she saw the stark nakedness of both their bodies, separated only by a few inches of air. "Yes, I am."

Hermione expected him to turn away, to quickly turn to his clothes and start buttoning up. But instead, he loosened his grip on her wrists and settled on the space next to her. Slowly, he kissed the top of her head, the tip of her nose and her lips. His lips moved closer to her ears.

"We can change that tonight," he whispered in a soft, playful way. A grin spread across her face. "Don't worry; I'll go gentle on you." Hermione couldn't see his face, but she felt the smile on his voice.

"You don't have to, I like it rough." Hermione didn't know where the words came from; they simply spilled from her mouth, tumbling like raging currents.

Harry's body trembled with laughter. "I see I've gotten myself a true lion-hearted girl."

"The beast dwells within," Hermione whispered. She looks up and greets his eyes. "Tell me one more secret."

"This is my first," he said nervously. "This is my first time too." Hermione laughed at the thought. This fine, young man…this dashing bachelor had been just like her all along. The confidence was a façade, a wall that now comes crushing down. "Now tell me yours."

"I actually like you. Not just this version. I like you. I care for you a lot."

Hermione wondered whether the change in topic would change his mind. She watched his eyes. For a split second she thought she saw anger rising to those bright green specks. But they diminished as quickly as they came. "That's kind of bestiality, don't you think?" His voice twinkles, but Hermione heard the undercurrent of sadness in it. "But nonetheless, I am quite fond of you too, Miss Granger."

He leaned down to kiss her and sooner than later, they were lost in a mess of screams, and moans and silk bed sheets.

* * *

><p>Morning came through streaks of light pushing itself past the strips of tattered curtains. Hermione lay underneath heavy, silk sheets; her entire body sore. She turned to her right and felt nothing but air.<p>

_Last night was a dream; some bizarre, unexpected dream that tears at my heart. That man was a ghost, a stranger. This is reality. I am waking up to reality. I have never known the Beast. I have never heard his secrets. I have never screamed his name or touch the skin beneath the fur. I have never seen the brightness of his eyes or heard the gentleness of his voice. I have never revealed myself to him. I have never given up myself to him. That was a dream. This is reality. Wake up, Hermione._

There was a faint knock on the door. "I'm not feeling well," Hermione called; her voice hoarse. Irritatingly, the door knob twisted and Hermione forced herself to turn away, letting the sheets form a wall between the unseen visitor and her bare body.

"And now you can't look at me, now that I'm a beast." Harry sounded hurt, wounded. _Harry_, Hermione thought. His name is Harry.

"Harry," she murmured, slowly turning her body towards him. Each movement strained her muscles; each action sent a rippling, sizzling pain on her bones. "Harry," she repeated.

Looking up, she saw that Harry had been his old self again. His body covered in fur, his hands distorted like paws. Two horns stuck out of the sides of his head. But there was something about him that pulled at her insides, something familiar – something she had seen the night before.

"I know you'd rather have him. He's human. He's like you. I'm...not." He spoke of his human self as if it was someone else completely. As if that man had been a stranger, only allowed to come out every once in a while; he spoke grudgingly. He looks up at me, his hands resting on the corners of my bed, scared.

And that's when I knew. _His eyes._ No matter what form he takes, his eyes stay the same. They don't glow in the dark or turn blood red. His eyes are the reminder that he is still human underneath. That no matter how many layers of fur are put atop his body, no matter how much they contort his face, his hands, his body…he was still Harry.

But he couldn't see his eyes. He would never look into a mirror. It was only me who saw it. It was only me who saw him. "That's not true," I said, placing my hand on top of his. He seemed to flinch at my touch, but he didn't move away.

He dropped his head. "Oh that's right. Bestiality. Forgot you were a fan of that," he said with a smile. Hermione painfully pushed herself up and planted a kiss on top of his head, trying to avoid the pointed ends of the horn. "Are you still sore from last night?"

Hermione grinned and nodded. "I'm sorry, I must have been too aggressive," he said.

"Beast," Hermione said suddenly. "I don't like calling you that anymore. It makes me feel like you aren't someone I know, like you're a stranger."

"Call me Harry then," Harry said through thinned lips. Hermione could tell that the name wasn't something he was used to anymore. It was poison in his mouth.

"Harry," she said, caressing his cheeks. He pressed his face against her palm.

"It sounds better when you say it."

"Then I'll say it again and again. Harry, Harry, Harry."

"Cross that out. It sounds better when you're screaming it," Harry said as he got up. "I'll get you breakfast. You must be starving."


	3. Chapter 3: The Beast Within

Beauty and the Beast Part 3: The Beast Within

(A/N: Angst Part.)

Hermione sat on the smooth, wooden floors behind a towering stack of books. Her newly-tailored robes splayed flamboyantly around her. She turned each page of the untouched books like they were something fragile, something that would disintegrate at her mere touch. The words spewed forth from the book like a bubbling fountain of knowledge, constantly surprising Hermione. Most of her days were spent this way. Harry rarely spends time in the library except on those occasions when he would surprise Hermione with a new set of books or perhaps a meal on a tray.

Over the past few weeks, Hermione noticed the sudden change in Harry's attitude. It was the sex, she thought with a smile. Harry's temper had been more bearable than usual. He rarely threw fits and he was always polite now. Hermione seemed to have noticed how found Harry has become of her, in an intimate and frightening way. She consoled him every now and then, talked him out of his misery. Each day she felt less and less of a prisoner. However, she still missed her family. Harry gave her permission to visit them as much as she wanted, saying that he knows how it feels to not see one's own family. "Well, what am I saying? I never even had any family at all! Voldemort's killed them all," he told her. Hermione didn't look away then. She didn't care if Harry knew she was staring. She wanted to see him, all of him. And despite having seen every inch of his skin, it was a different exposure she wanted.

"Miss Granger," Dobby said, peeking from behind the stack of books.

"Yes, Dobby," she chirped, putting down a heavy, leather-bound book.

Dobby bowed his head down. "I am sorry to interrupt your afternoon reading, but Sir Potter requests your company. He waits in his study room."

Hermione beamed at the elf and pushed herself up. "Thank you, Dobby. Can you tell Harry that I will be there in five minutes?"

"Of course, Miss Granger." And with that, the elf left the room, humming.

Harry's study was possibly the neatest area in the entire manor. The floor was pristine white marble and the walls were warmest shade of brown. The room was rich in wooden furniture and golden adorations. Hermione imagined Harry overlooking the tall glass windows, and smiled. Harry has always been a person who looked like he was contemplating too much. His eyes wear a distant look of someone who's lived enough lives to know the true meaning of it. Stacks of books much like the ones in the library were neatly lined against the walls, held by sturdy mahogany planks carved into intricate ships similar to Victorian architecture. Red, velvety drapery blocked part of the windows and the same material covered most of the sofas and chairs.

Hermione looked at the towering figure that stood on the far corner of the room, his arms crossed. He was partly hidden by the shadows, but even then, Hermione could feel him smiling.

"You called," she said, her voice soft and tempting.

Harry approached her in a steady pace, his hands on his back. "Yes," he said, smiling. Hermione's hand automatically shot up and caressed the soft fur of his cheek. She felt him tense at her touch; however, he didn't flinch. "I have arranged a formal party to be held tonight. Your dress robes are currently being delivered to your quarters. Please consider it my thank you note for not having left me despite my contemptuous attitude."

Hermione flung her arms around him, pulling herself up. "Oh, thank you, Harry! Thank you! This is wonderful! I have never been offered a formal party in my entire life, especially not for something as simple as keeping you company! Oh, Harry!"

Hermione kissed the top of his head and gave him a firmer squeeze. Harry rested his head gently against her shoulder and slowly set her down. "However, I regret to inform you that this party is restricted only to those that inhabit this property. There will be no Muggle present in the entirety of the celebration."

Hermione felt her heart sink; she thought this would finally be the opportunity for her to see them again. But she couldn't let Harry see that. She saw the way his eyes sparkled when he told her about the party. She saw his excitement, that genuine feeling of agitation and happiness. Despite the still-hairy appearance, his eyes lit up the way a child's eyes do during Christmas. She couldn't afford to make him sad. He was, after all, doing this for her. He wanted her to be happy and he thought this was the best way to cheer her up.

"That's fine," Hermione said, looking him in the eye. "You're all the company I need." Crossing the room, they settled on the soft, cushiony sofa across the fireplace. "I have forgotten the outside world and all its mundane traditions. I have lived here long enough to be gratified by your offer. Nobody has ever done this for me, Harry. I care not for its restrictions."

Harry smiled at her thoughtfully, wrapping his hands around hers. "I planned it especially for tonight. The moon hides behind the shadows of the clouds, on the 31st, I shall regain my human form for the evening. You wouldn't have to stare down this beastly creature."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, stop putting yourself down! You are precious to me and I don't care whether or not you're human or how long you will remain one."

Harry's eyes immediately shot wide with worry. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just…just. I've never asked a girl out like this."

Hermione giggled at his nervousness. "Technically, we're staying in. So technically, you're not asking me out but asking me in, which doesn't work because I already am in."

"It's good to have someone smart to talk to and correct me." Harry leaned in to kiss her, his lips grazing hers so swiftly and so gently it was almost like a passing wind. "That was nice," he said sheepishly.

Hermione raised her eyebrow and grabbed Harry by the collars of his shirt. "That all you've got," she teased.

Harry evened her stare and turned to see if anyone's behind him. "I just don't to wear you out before tonight." His voice carried a malicious and reckless undertone that made Hermione shiver with excitement.

"We'll see." She stood up and began to walk to walk towards the door.

"Don't worry. I have a surprise you'll surely love."

Hermione surprised herself by winking at him as she closed the door behind her.

The afternoon stretched in an anxious, dragging way that made Hermione think of the million things that could go wrong tonight. Upon leaving Harry's study, she immediately set towards her quarters, only to be stopped by a sassy looking elf that guarded the door. "You are not permitted to enter your quarters at this moment, Miss Granger. The seamstress requests to be left alone for a few minutes in order to put the final touches to your dress robe."

Hermione obeyed and decided it was best for her to preoccupy herself by taking a stroll inside the house and throughout the courtyard. Dobby accompanied her, talking endlessly about his adventures with Harry. He spoke kindly of him, almost appraisingly. He had been the family elf long before Harry was born. He said Harry's parents were the kind of couple that was envied by everyone. Lily Potter was not a pureblood, unlike Harry's father. She is a commoner, a Muggle. They met in school, when Lily got a special admission to study in the town's most refined academy. Hermione thought it was a cute love story, one that poets write about…up until the tragic turn of events. Like Harry, Dobby refused to give out much about the death of Harry's parents. All he told her was that they died when Harry was still young, barely able to walk. The young heir has been left to the care of countless guardians ever since.

His last guardian, Sirius Black, was sent to prison the year the curse began to take place. He loved Harry like his own child. He didn't have any, so everyone assumed he has taken the parental role of being his godson's father. Unfortunately, he was accused of mass murder and treason, and was sent to prison. "He didn't do it! He could never do it, Miss Granger! Sir Black had been a gentle creature. He had always been caring and compassionate, only teasing, but never hurting. His worst days were his teenage years, the years of rebellion," the elf defended.

Two hours had passed before Hermione was sent to her room.

The first thing Hermione saw was the large crowd of elves that surrounded her bed. They were fiddling with some roses, arranging them in the most intricate fashion that made Hermione's heart swell with joy. Sitting on top of her bed was an elderly woman, with graying hair and wrinkly skin. Hermione realized she has never seen the woman before and Harry had told her about all the Muggles that he constantly meets, but never about her. The woman mystified her.

"Hello, I am Cecilia, your seamstress and assigned maid for tonight," she greeted warmly. The old woman opened her arms, inviting Hermione to hug her. Hermione had forgotten how different it was to hold another human in her arms. Other than Harry, the other passerby Muggles who came to visit the house for some inexplicable reason were too distant to make contact with her. The old woman smelled of jasmine and vanilla, the nostalgic scent of home, of her mother. Hermione couldn't help but tear up a bit.

"What's wrong, dear," the woman asked, clearly worried. Upon looking at Hermione, the old woman immediately recognized the reason for her distress. She didn't need to ask. She's seen it before, with all the other girls that have been trapped to live with the Beast. Or maybe she hasn't. Maybe she's seen it with the eyes of a mother, eyes that see all. "It's alright, it's alright. Sir Potter is a fine man and I hope you do not let his present appearance get in the way of that. I've noticed something in him lately, something different. And I may be wrong, but I do suspect that you are involved in whatever that change may be. You're all he has, or at least all he chooses to see."

The old woman shooed away the elves that grumbled and stomped as they walked away from the shiny beads and fragrant roses. She closed the door and walked towards Hermione's closet. "Who are you," Hermione asked. She hadn't meant to sound so rude, but for once she wanted to not be the one left behind.

"I'm Cecilia, seamstress, maid and Harry's previous caretaker."

"Previous? He kicked you out?"

"No, my dear. Harry is far too noble to kick me out. Despite everything that he once was, Harry has always been nice to me. My son was ill and in need of constant caring. Harry sent me out and offered my son and I a house near the manor. He has always taken care of us."

"Oh."

Hermione looked up to see the old woman pull out a chiffon gown with cascading layers of fabric that range from shades of soft pink to rich lavender. The design was simple yet impeccable, with a waist belt to emphasize the mannequin's hourglass figure. Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. The gown was made for her! "Oh my god, it's beautiful," she gushed as she leapt out of bed.

"And I'm guessing it would suit you perfectly well. Sir Potter has put out orders to treat you with utmost delicacy for this evening. He told us to lavish you with such, and I quote 'superficial things'."

Hermione laughed at Harry's orders. He knew Hermione wasn't someone who typically gushed over such extravagance, but he still chooses to spoil her with it, only to make her laugh at the absurdity of it all. "Well, thank you. This is absolutely the most beautiful dress I have ever seen in my entire life, and being an observant on town festivities, I've seen a lot."

The old woman's cheeks blushed with flattery and pride. "Oh you're welcome." She pushed Hermione towards the bathroom with a strength that was surprised Hermione coming from a woman who was old enough to be her grandmother. "Now off you go. I don't suppose you would want me to bath you. Teenagers never feel comfortable exposing themselves to the elderly unless the notion of affair and seduction is involved."

Hermione laughed at the old woman's sheer honesty. She took her time in the bath, scrubbing off every corner of her body until it was red. The room smelled sweet and gentle, like the wildflower she picks up every morning on the way to the library; she guessed the elves had put it there in compliance to Harry's orders.

Cecilia transformed Hermione with every movement. She pulled her hair up, into a swirling and twisting bun that perched on the top of her head, with bits and pieces of intentionally curled hair falling from the knot. Next were the adoration and the make-up. Cecilia applied very little make up on her, only some shimmer and something to bring out her eyes; the adoration was just as simple. She said Hermione looked best at her most natural state; it was what Harry had fallen in love with: her simplicity.

The gown surprisingly hugged every curved of Hermione's body, flowing smoothly like waves of feathery ice cream down to the ground. The moment Hermione got a chance to look at herself in the full length mirror, her own reflection surprised her. "Well, look at you. You're like a blushing ride. You look so beautiful," Cecilia exclaimed, tearing up a bit on her own work of art. "Turn around. Oh, wonderful, the layers work out nicely. Oh Sir Potter will be pleased."

She forgot about Harry. Harry will see her like this. Harry will be there, waiting in his own suit. He will be waiting for her, with his piercing green eyes and well-slicked, jet black hair. Suddenly, Hermione was nervous. "Oh, I forgot about Harry. I don't know how to act while I'm as dressed as I am now. What will he think of me? Oh Cecilia, you have to tell him I am not yet ready."

Cecilia looked at the grandfather clock on the opposite end of the room. "Oh Miss Granger, but it's almost time and you look most wonderful. I am sure Sir Potter will be delighted to see you. Now come on, your prince awaits."

By the strike of nightfall, Hermione heard the sounds of violin and piano playing from the grand hall below her. Her heart fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird in flight. Slowly, she walked out of her room and turned towards the grand staircase, her knees slightly shaking.

On the foot of the staircase stood Harry, wearing a dark suit draped with fur on one corner. He looked different from the last time Hermione had seen him, his hair was trimmed and he wore glasses that gave him a refined and more mature look. Hermione waved at him from the top of the staircase. She could feel the intensity of his gaze through her entire body. This moment had suddenly become too much for her to handle. When finally she reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry bowed and took her hand, kissing the back of her palm. The gesture wasn't as perfect as it could have been, with Harry's glasses falling to forward the bridge of his nose. Hermione giggled and Harry looked up nervously.

"Smooth," Hermione said, using their clasped hands to pull him against her.

Hermione wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "You look lovely," he whispered.

"Now that's more like it," Hermione said as she pulled away.

He escorted her towards the ball room which slowly lit up with a million candle lights that surrounded the room. It was only then that Hermione noticed how much work Harry and all his accomplices had put towards creating the perfect evening. The ballroom's floor was as pristine as that of Harry's study. Flowers of all sorts and colors adorned the walls and the handles of the grand staircase, filling the room with the intoxicating smell of the outside world. The 'roof cover' was lifted and now Hermione could see the glass dome that covered the top half of the ball room. The night sky shimmered with a million specks of light reflecting the glow of a shadowed moon.

The elves were nowhere to be found but somehow Hermione knew they were the ones responsible for the music that originated from the great hall which followed them into the spacious ball room. Harry moved towards the center of the room, offering his hand to Hermione. His touch was soft and careful, his every move calculated. As another set of melodies began, Harry placed one hand on the small of Hermione's back and one hand on the air, for Hermione to hold. He stood only a few inches away from her and Hermione could smell the spearmint in his breath. She placed on hand on his shoulder and the other met Harry's in the air.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she danced with anyone, but somehow her feet moved gracefully across the marble floor. Every fault made them laugh, and every turn made her head spin. His laughter was as intoxicating as the scent of the flowers all around them. His touch electrified her, sending small jolts of excitement across her nerve endings. The night passed in slow, syncopated footsteps and synchronized spins. At one point, Hermione pulled her hand away from his and ruffled his hair. He then chased her around the room and upon catching her, went into a fit of laughter. He took off his glasses, which apparently weren't of much use to him at all, and danced with a complete disregard for formality.

Hermione laughed countlessly.

As the night was coming to an end, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and brought her toward the balcony overlooking the town. Hermione unknowingly gazed at the street lights and the buildings that stood too close to each other.

"You miss it, don't you? You miss your parents. You miss your time. You miss your old life."

She didn't have to answer; Harry spoke on. "I am letting you go, Hermione," he said, as he let her hand go. "Your father is gravely ill and your mother lacks the will to live. It will both do you good to have you leave me and settle with them."

"I can come back though, couldn't I? Our old agreement stands."

"I'm afraid the moment I let you go will be the moment I finally cut off all the restraints of your contract. You will no longer be my property and therefore you would no longer comply with me. You shall no longer be permitted to cross my property or see me again."

"But why? It's not like I've crossed some law by leaving you."

"Hermione, set your priorities. Your family needs you." He looked at her. "I don't."

Hermione shook her head and began to back away, looking at the candlelit room beyond the glass doors that led them to the balcony. "Then what was all this for? What was all those stupid things you told me for? Am I some kind of a joke to you? A sick joke, a stupid little girl you experimented with? You push and pull me, stretch my patience to its extent; you hurt me one day and treat me like a princess the next. You're the most fickle person in the world and I put up with you only to have you do this to me? I thought this night was your thank you gift! Instead, I find out it is nothing but embellishments to fool me from the reality of the situation. I mean nothing more to you than every other girl that walked through those doors."

Harry grabbed her by the elbows and looked at her in the eye. "There was never any other girl. No one puts up with me. I'm a beast. I am only human for tonight. By tomorrow, I will be back to who I was. That's my fate."

"You are not a beast; you were never a beast to me. Your sentiments are all too human to be beastly. I treated you no differently than I treated any other Muggle in town, maybe I even regarded you more. And you know why? Because I care for you…and silly me, thinking that you care for me too!" Tears stained Hermione's cheeks. "You were human to me. But in the end, I'm still nothing to you."

And with that she walked past him, leaving the beast alone with his thoughts.

"I'll be leaving tonight," Hermione said as she reached the door.

"Hermione, it's late. It's best if you set foot tomorrow morning."

"I don't think I could spend another night with the likes of you."

(A/N Part II: )

Anon, krc101, HarryHermioneBellaSwan-oh thank you!

bookscleverness18- really? I'm not the best with smut so yeah, I'm actually new to it.

FollowingButterflies- and yet not much of my followers care to review it. ;_;


	4. Chapter 4: Blood of the Beloved

**Chapter 4: Blood of the Beloved**

Harry watched the carriage go down the twists and turns of the narrow road that led away from the manor. He couldn't stop Hermione; he could only hope that she sees the carefully wrapped box she placed in the bottom of her untouched trunk. It contained _the_ rose and a dull shard of broken mirror.

"For what it's worth, she really did care, Sir," Cecilia said from the doorway.

"I cared too but…" Harry shook off the thought. "She couldn't get involved in this."

"She could have put an end to the curse."

"Then it'll be her life that shall be damned."

"I don't understand." The seamstress furrowed her brows and dared to enter the room. "She…"

"It's best if you don't," Harry said icily. "Please close the door behind you as you exit. I will be retiring to my chambers now. Tell Dobby not to bother with setting up the bath."

The seamstress thought about protesting but she knew it will be to no avail. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

><p>Hermione sat quietly at the back of the carriage, watching the dimly lit streets from her window. She hadn't cried since her argument with Harry and she didn't intend to. <em>He may have been right to dismiss me<em>, she thought. _It may have even been thoughtful if his last words hadn't stung as much as they did._ She tilted her head backwards, letting the gentle motions of the carriage sweep her to sleep.

Hermione awoke to a gentle tap on her shoulder. She squinted her eyes but only saw a silhouette against the bright street light overhead.

"Hello, Hermione. It's nice to see you again." She recognized the voice instantly.

* * *

><p>Harry's dreams were filled with flashes. A flash of bushy, brown hair. A flash of green spark. A flash of skin. A flash of blood. A flash of the Dark Lord's sullen face.<p>

_Harry stood atop a moss-covered boulder that stood on the outskirts of a thick, green forest. He was near a cliff; he could hear the waves splashing against the sharp rocks that he knew lay some feet below him. He was waiting for someone; he was agitated. He stared at the trail he had just walked through, realizing now how obscure his foot path had been. He didn't know exactly how long he's been waiting there or who exactly he was waiting for but Harry didn't budge. He knew there was a reason why he's there; he needs to find out what it was._

_Moments later, Harry's eyes caught sight of motion deep in the woods. The sun is beginning to set and the woods only looked denser and more sinister. But he knew somewhere in that dark thicket of trees and vines, someone was watching. Harry reached for the pocket knife he kept inside his coat pocket, his eyes shifting back and forth. He stepped backwards, toward the edge of the cliff. He didn't know what it was, but he felt like what watched him out there was far deadlier than what lay below him._

_Then he saw it, a figure emerging from behind the trees. It wore a black robe that covered the entirety of its body, his face obscured by shadows playing behind his hood. It walked towards Harry in a slow and deliberate way that sent chills down Harry's spine. The figure lifted its hand up and Harry could see the bone-white skin that resembled that of a serpent's, its long fingers reaching up to take the hood off its head._

"_So we meet again, Harry Potter." _

_It was Lord Voldemort._

_Harry gripped the knife tightly. The Dark Lord approached him. His feet looked as though they barely touched the ground, Harry noticed. "Put that thing down, Mr. Potter. You and I both know that's no use for whatever's bound to happen here, at this very moment."_

"_What are you doing here," Harry asked through gritted teeth. _

"_Didn't YOU ask to meet me here?" The Dark Lord walked around Harry, his snake-like eyes travelling the length of his body. "I see you've retained your human form, Mr. Potter. What did it take exactly for the spell to wear off?"_

"_You lied to me."_

_Voldemort now stood in front of Harry, his face a mask of mock surprise and indignation. "How could you think of me a trickster, Harry Potter? I tried to help you."_

"_You cursed me. You made me a Beast."_

"_Yes, and I help you meet the girl. What's her name again?" Harry held the knife tighter. "Oh, yes. Hermione Granger, the town spinster, basically. And my, my how you've changed her. Fired her up like the little dirty whore she is."_

_Harry threw himself against the Dark Lord, the knife accurately aimed at his heart, only to be met by air. He hit the ground with a thud. "Will you look at that? The little Lord's in love. Too bad there are repercussions. You see, the curse isn't exactly how you remembered it, with the whole girl-falls-for-you-you-fall-for-her-curse-broken yadda yadda yadda. She basically becomes part of the deal. You don't need to fall for her the same way she has for you. You can't trade her love for the spell; it just doesn't work that way. She's the sacrifice."_

"_What are you trying to say?"_

"_Once the last petal has fallen, and you've slain the girl that loves you, only then shall the curse be broken. There is no escaping her fate, or yours. You will kill her either way. If you kill her before the final petal falls, you become human. If you don't, your beastly nature will override all your thoughts and you will permanently become an animal, and a little more so each day. And it is her blood exactly which you thirst for the most. The blood of your beloved. Nothing else could quench that thirst. Nothing."_

* * *

><p>"Luna!" Hermione gushed as she stumbled out of the carriage into her best friend's arms. "I'm so glad to see you! How have you been?"<p>

Hermione stepped out of the embrace to look at Luna. "Father and I have been holding up. It's you whom I should be asking questions to. I heard about what happened." Luna stepped closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. "With, you know, the beast."

Hermione noticed that there wasn't a trace of malice or fear in her voice. Just sheer curiosity. "I came back in one piece didn't I?" She began towards the rear of the carriage to help the coachman carry down her luggage; Luna trailed behind her. "Besides, he wasn't all that bad. At least not what he's cracked up to be. Those old folk lore are nothing but a string of lies told by people who do not know one bit about Harry."

"Harry?" Luna tilted her head. "Who's Harry?"

Suddenly, Hermione realized she gave out too much. "Oh. Nothing. No one. Slip of the tongue." Luna nodded and proceeded to help her drag her belongings across the wet cobblestone path.

"It's okay to feel sometimes, Hermione," Luna said as they reached her door. Hermione looked at her dubiously. "Harry, he's the beast, isn't he? And you care for him. I see it in the way you defend him. There's passion behind that, raw, reckless passion, but passion nonetheless."

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek. "Would you like to come over for dinner maybe?"

"No, it's alright. Your family needs you right now. You should spend time with them. Your parents, they haven't been well. Since you left, well, your dad had blamed himself and your mom couldn't hold up. It was too much for her. She missed you too. But it felt like she also lost her husband."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "How do you know this, Luna?"

"I've heard things."

"From who, exactly?"

"I can't say. You'd think I'm crazy." Luna turned her heel to go.

"I won't. Trust me. Luna, I don't think you're crazy."

But Luna was already walking down the cobblestone path.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned the knob.

* * *

><p>Harry woke up in cold sweat. It stuck to his shirt and his sheets. He could still taste her name on his lips. He's dreaming about it again – about the reason why he had to let Hermione go. He was breathing fast, his chest rising up and down rapidly. He gripped the silken sheets tightly, pulling it all around him. He threw the covers off and ran to the broken mirror across his room and stared at his reflection. He was still human, more skin than fur.<p>

I guess Hermione hasn't seen the box yet, he thought bitterly. Why does life have to be so unfair to him? He tried, didn't he? He wasn't a brat to his uncle or his servants and yet the spell was upon him, in his veins. And he didn't even have a way around it.

Harry slammed his fist to the wooden desk. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to take her back. But all he did was rock back and forth on the warm, carpeted floor, waiting for the dawn.

* * *

><p>"Mom? Dad," Hermione called as she entered the eerily drafty cottage. Her head turned towards the fireplace. They were running out of firewood. She made a mental note to buy some from the family next door or to find it herself the next morning.<p>

She carefully crossed the threshold which now felt too small for Hermione. It was comfortable, but it was no longer familiar. The Beast's house possessed too much grandiose and compared to that, her house seemed like an easily-blown away, tattered rag house. The wallpaper was peeling off and there were leaks in every corner of the house. Buckets half-filled with rain water were scattered around the floor. There was a faint scent of newly-baked bread and Hermione wondered where her mother got the money from this time – what other possession did she have to sell for them to last another day without her?

"Hermione? Is that you?" A voice called from the adjoining kitchen and dining room. The voice was so gravelly and frail that it made Hermione wince. She braced herself for the worst and turned a corner to face her mother.

She looked thinner, Hermione thought. But certainly not ill, or depressed. Not the way Harry had described her at least. She looked, quite honestly, like she'd been expecting her. She wrapped her arms around her small figure and inhaled the scent of vanilla extract and bread; she'd been baking again.

When Hermione stepped out of the embrace, she couldn't help but take a second look at her mother. "How have you been, Mom," she asked.

Her mother beamed at her. "I'm doing well. Your father's asleep now; you can surprise him tomorrow. He's been quite agitated these past few days, what with the hunt and all going on. Oh that silly old man, he always tires himself with affairs that should not concern him."

Hermione pulled her down to the chair and studied her face. "So you're okay? Not sick or depressed or anything? You don't miss me at all?"

Her mother patted her hand affectionately, as if to say 'oh you silly child, you!'

"We always knew you'd come back. At first, yes, we were afraid. Your father went bonkers, off his head crazy at the thought of leaving you with that…that beast. We were worried. But the Beast sent us messages, delivered personally and stealthily in the middle of the night, detailed stories of what you did for the day or the week, whichever suited him. He apologized for keeping you so long but he told us he'd let you go soon enough. He sent us food so we never went hungry, despite the shortage over the winter. We shared some of them with the Weasley's and the Lovegood's; there was plenty for everyone. Of course, we didn't trust the beast to take care of you, but we trust that he'd return you."

Hermione realized she must have looked so confused for her mother tried to search her eyes. "What's wrong, Hermione," she asked.

"He let me go because he told me dad was sick, that you were sad; he said you needed me." She looked lost, her eyes unable to stay in one place. "He lied to me."

"Oh but we do need you! He probably doesn't see it fit that he sends you out for no reason at all. You know, Hermione, I do think the beast has a heart after all. Behind all that fur and anger and hate, there might just be compassion and love."

Hermione pulled away from her mother's touch. "Love does not dwell in the heart of someone like him," she said bitterly. "Forgive me, mother. I am tired from the long trip; I'll help you gather the firewood tomorrow. But I do want some rest right now."

Her mother kissed the top of her head and went back to the kitchen. "Well if you're hungry, I've just baked some bread." Hermione looked up just in time to see nostalgia pass through her mom's sad eyes. "I bake some every week in case you came back."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Maybe tomorrow, Mom." She began towards her room.

"Oh and Hermione…"

"Yeah?"

"Welcome back."

_(A/N): Wow it took me too long to find the time and will to write. Sorry this is a short chapter; le headache strikes~_


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